


The Right Touch

by PandaMega



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Kidlawexchange2020, M/M, Minor Character Death, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28418682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaMega/pseuds/PandaMega
Summary: Trafalgar Law is cursed. Touch starved and isolated, he wanders into the night looking for trouble and finds just that. What kind of person is immune to his cursed hands? Nothing good can come of this and yet he’s helpless to resist.Written for Cucu for the Kid/Law exchange 2020!Warning for blood, death, sex (mostly ch 3), and a really depressing childhood (ch 2)
Relationships: Eustass Kid/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44
Collections: KidLaw Exchange 2020





	1. The touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cucuxumusu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cucuxumusu/gifts).



> Happy Holiday’s to @cucuxumusu!!! If you haven’t read their fics you MUST! I love every single one of them! They’re a genius at mythical/supernatural AUs!!
> 
> This fic turned into something pretty dark, but I wrote it for the chemistry between these two characters. Hurt!Law and Vampire!Kid go together perfectly. I haven’t finished the final part which is basically all sex, so stay tuned lol. Hopefully it will be updated soon... ahaha
> 
> Trigger warning (spoilers): Warning for death (depicted but non-violent), mention of alcohol use, a seriously depressing childhood (ch 2), blood (vampire related), self harm (ch 2), and sex acts (hand job, ch 1). Briefly mentioned child neglect/abandonment (ch 2), non graphic death of parents and non graphic death of an animal (ch2). 
> 
> Both parties are of age and enthusiastic consent is implied however due to the circumstances it could be construed as dubious. Just know that both characters are very willing and into all sex acts even though it’s a complicated situation. Let me know if I should warn for anything else. This is meant to be a sexy, sensual, dark/angsty fic, but not to be taken too seriously because i literally set the whole thing up for the sake of the sex lol.
> 
> Unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine >.>

There was no good reason for him to be out here at this time of night. He didn’t care. On sleepless nights like this the silence of his solitude was unbearable, the neatly constructed confines of his existence impossible to bear. He ached, longed for something he’d never had and never would. There was no escape from his isolation, not with his curse, but outside on nights like this he could almost pretend he wasn’t alone.

The streets were just shy of deserted, damp and gloomy in the dull light of flickering street lamps. He could pretend he was out for a rendezvous. He could dream of chance encounters with a stranger in the night. He could pretend he was out with intent to get drunk and rowdy at some dingy dive. It wasn’t safe out here at night, he had relegated himself to the outskirts of decent civilization. The harsh reality was that no one out here at this time of night had anything close to good intentions. But he could pretend. And even if he were to be mugged, assaulted out here in the bitter twilight, it would still be better company than lying alone for one more sleepless night. Besides, he had nothing to fear. He was the most dangerous creature out here after all. 

Trafalgar Law haunted the streets in steady strides, steps even despite the drink he’d consumed. Maudlin but emboldened by the alcohol in his system and unable to sleep he had slipped on his gloves and stalked into the night. By all appearances he wasn’t a noteworthy creature, yet he walked with a surety of an apex predator - his danger innate, effortless and unintentional, inescapable. Unwanted. He would rather be just another meek little lamb if it meant an end to his solitude, but he was cursed. He was cursed, and within the supple lambskin of his gloves were the hands of Death.

He knew he shouldn’t have come out tonight. Out here, there was nothing to fear. Nothing to hope for either. His life was empty of excitement or anticipation, just the dull monotony of his continued isolation. What he would give to feel a single emotion. What he would give to feel the touch of another, he would even take violence - a strike, a blow, a slap, anything to feel remotely alive, remotely human. He was starved for it. He would invite danger if it meant he could feel something for once. Let them come for him, let them try. He was unafraid of death, as well acquainted with it as he was. 

His walk led him nearer to sounds of life, places he didn’t belong. He didn’t care. He shouldn’t have had that drink earlier but life was too unbearable sober. He soon came upon a neighborhood of undesirables where late-night speakeasies spilled their miserable and intoxicated patrons into darkened alleys. Law could hear footsteps behind him, but it did not make his heart quicken. Laughter, voices, mockery. It did not anger him the way it should, it made him burn with envy.

Footsteps grew louder, closer, isn’t this what he’d wanted? He had been craving company but now, faced with other humans, it only became clear how different he was, how wrong, how wretched. He couldn’t laugh, mock, stumble from excess, nor quake in fear. He did not find humor in the suffering of others, he did not find humor in anything at all. He did not belong here. 

Law hastened his strides but the stumbling men behind him walked faster to keep up, slurred taunts following him.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Law froze.  _ Nobody _ touched him.

He felt a thrill up his spine, the warm print of the hand on his shoulder a brand. He couldn’t say whether the touch was good or bad, but it was thrilling, it was new. He turned to face his stalkers, two men of average build reeking of cheap bourbon. 

“You’re awful pretty t’be inna place li’ this,” one man slurred, face contorted in an uncoordinated sneer. His breath was rancid and he swayed on his feet into Law’s personal space. The other man stood behind him, leering.

Recoiling on instinct, Law shrugged the hand from his shoulder, acutely aware of every point of contact as it slid away. It felt wrong. People didn’t touch him. It just wasn’t done. He remained silent as the man continued blathering.

“Lookit them pretty gloves. Wanna bet that’s some fine leather, ye’ some kinda proper lady or ya got som’thin t’ hide?” The man reached out to snatch at Law’s hands but he stepped away neatly until he felt a wall at his back. He was cornered, he’d been careless. The other man stepped forward, these two hideous men blocking him in. 

The first man reached out again, grabbing at Law’s hand and catching a pinch of the glove, pulling it off.

Law flinched at the sight of his bare fingers.

“Ayy, tattoos? whassat say?” 

Law’s long fingers flexed, inked with the word “DEATH,” their danger spelled in no uncertain terms. He clenched his hand feeling a wave of unease at having his hand exposed in public. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come out tonight. 

The man reached out for his hand again and at last Law spoke up, “Don’t,” as he pulled his hand away.

“C’mon pretty, doncha wanna play? Why else’re you out inna place like this?”

The two men sneered and stepped closer, crowding into Law uncomfortably close. He wasn’t used to being so near people, he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. While he craved human touch and personal connection, he was certainly averse to the company of men like this. 

“I’ll advise you stay away if you’d like to live,” Law spoke calmly, hiding his unease. He was afraid, not of the men, but of what he might do.

“S’that some kinda threat?” One of the men growled, prowling closer still.

“A warning and a promise.”

The other man seemed to have lost his patience and he raised his hand to strike Law across the face. Reflexively, Law shielded himself. Their hands connected, skin against skin, and then the man seized, muscles spasming as he gurgled out his last breath before collapsing to the ground. His companion stared on in confusion, the smirk on his face contorting into horror as he looked between Law and the body of his friend.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Law hadn’t come out tonight planning on killing anyone, he hadn’t wanted to kill anyone, he hated it, he hated it more than anything. He was cursed. 

Sidestepping away from the body, he held back his nausea as he backed away from the other man.

“What, what’d you do, what the fuck,” the man muttered, still struggling to comprehend the situation.

Law turned and ran, not wanting to see any more of what would happen with the dead man and his friend, not willing to make another mistake with his cursed hands.

“Hey!” The man shouted after him but did not pursue.

After running through several streets, Law hunched over, heaving in gulps of air and scowling at his undignified retreat. He looked down at his hands on his knees to see his one bare hand. He’d lost his glove. He shouldn’t have come out tonight.

Despite the long years living alone with his curse, he’d not yet grown numb to his touch of death. It was unsettling. He’d give anything to be normal again, to be free, unburdened, safe to form friendships, relationships, without the fear of killing someone he loved again. It was nearly impossible to bear. He longed for the touch of another, to feel warm skin beneath his fingers, safe and alive, to be held in a tender embrace, to feel the press of lips against his skin. He’d do anything for such simple pleasures. He’d never known a lover’s touch. The last time he’d been folded into loving arms he was just a child, too young to realize the significance, too naive to treasure the moment. He would kill the man that cursed him so, if given the chance. One more murder on his hands was nothing, after all. 

Law stood in a darkened alley catching his breath, mind racing, shaken and tired. He was fully sober now. He just wanted to sleep but was certain that sleep would never come - not with the fresh and lingering feeling of death on his fingertips.

The hairs at the back of his neck prickled, a feeling of unease settled under his skin and he became suddenly afraid to look behind his back. In that moment he felt a cool breath of air at his ear that sent a shiver up his spine, and then a whisper of a voice.

“Well, that’s not something ye see everydae,” 

The voice was a low hum, gravelly and warm.

Law whirled, shuddering at the proximity, but behind him the alleyway was dark and empty.

A puff of air at his other ear, and then the murmur, “Ye got the stink of death on ye, just the wae I like.” The breath was hot, the voice deep like a summoning.

He could feel the press of a body behind him but as Law spun, the person vanished like smoke, a blur of movement before settling once more at his back.

Law trembled, “Who are you?”

This time a cool touch, broad fingertips, skated over the back of his neck, slipped around Law’s throat as the voice rumbled in his ear, “You really are quite pretty hm?”

Law was frozen, every nerve in his skin ringing with the contact. His skin was so sensitive it burned, stinging from the recent memory of death yet aching for more. His heart raced, thrilled and uncertain, fearful and anticipatory.

The vibrations of his throat were trapped under a firm hand. “You saw what happened,” Law stated, intending it as a threat though it sounded more curious.

“I did.” The voice was amused, grip tightening slightly. Law’s pulse thrummed against unyielding fingers.

Breath uneven, Law knew he should feel afraid, knew he was meant to fight back, but he couldn’t bring himself to care for his own survival. He was curious though, entire body rippling with anticipation. “I’ll touch you.” Less a threat than a question.

“Go ahead,” the voice taunted.

Hesitant, Law became hyper aware of his uncovered hand. He didn’t want to kill anyone else tonight. If this man died at his hand he’d be ruined, devastated. His hand faltered, unwilling to move.

“What’s the matter, love?” The voice crooned. It was unnaturally hot in his ear, sent warm air tickling over his neck. He wanted it, wanted to feel this strange man, wanted to touch him, but he  _ couldn’t _ .

The hand at his neck squeezed briefly as another hand came up to his shoulder, petting soothingly as Law flinched away. The hand slid down his arm and Law’s breath caught in his chest. He could see it, ghostly pale in the night, large and string with thick veins snaking up the back of his hand and beneath a black sleeve. The nails were painted black, fingertips seeming to vanish into the dark as they slid down his coat sleeve towards his bare hand. 

And then they were touching.

Rough finger pads brushing over the back of his hand, searching out the bump of each knuckle, tracing the back of each finger where the skin was mangled with scars and painted over with ink.

“Pretty hands too,” The man murmured, his tongue clicked, “What a pity.”

Law flushed hot and shameful, unsure what the man meant but feeling suddenly self conscious of both his curse and of the gnarled skin beneath the ink on his fingers.

The man’s hands curled towards his palm and Law jerked away but the hand caught him fast, securing his wrist in an unveiling grip as he tutted into Law’s ear.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” 

The words shouldn’t have been as reassuring as they were, should have been ominous, dangerous, but Law felt suddenly unburdened. He relinquished control easily, freed himself of fault and let himself go. 

The man stepped closer until he was a solid wall of warmth at his back. The grip at his throat loosened and the hand slid down his chest, still holding him fast. 

Law felt faint. This was, he was being held. Is this what it felt like to be held? To have strong arms wrapped around him, a warm body pressed up behind him, encircled, encased. He should feel trapped but instead he felt free. He felt free, he was sure if his knees buckled and he allowed himself to fall he would wouldn’t sink to the ground but be held aloft by the strength of another. It was dizzying, liberating to feel, for once in his life, he didn’t have to be strong. He was supported, supported by strange, curious arms. He was vulnerable for the first time and it felt so good.

The hand at his abdomen moved to join the other pale hand at his wrist, cradling his cursed hands like something precious. One thumb brushed up his pulse towards the flesh of his palm and Law held his breath, flinching as the digit slid over his sensitive hand without pause, reckless, heedless of the curse in his skin.

The breath left him in a shudder. He was lightheaded, giddy. If it weren’t for the arms around him he would have collapsed in relief. 

“Shhh, that’s good ain’t it,” the man hummed, his thumbs gliding over his palm and pressing into the muscle, stroking out years of aching, carelessly caressing his curse. The man was safe, they were safe. 

It was such a deep relief to be able to touch another that it nearly brought him to his knees. Law was suitably overwhelmed and yet he craved more, craved the sensation of skin upon skin, he was starved for it, deprived for years of the touch he deserved, the tenderness that was owed to him as a person. The deprivation had nearly driven him mad, made him feel inhuman, undeserving, unlovable, but why? What had he ever done to deserve such a fate? He needed it now, needed it all to make up for lost time. His whole body sang with need, with new possibilities. His mind grew cloudy with the kind of lust he’d never let himself imagine. Not carnal but primal, the primitive need for touch that superceeded sex. It was raw and guileless and utterly human.

The man’s wide fingers laced between his slender ones and squeezed. Law grew lightheaded, frantic as he reached with his other hand, pulled his glove off with his teeth and let it drop to the dirty pavement. He grasped at the man’s arms around him, felt the back of the man’s hands, let their fingers tangle and intertwine. He breathed heavily, excitement warring with overstimulation as he reached a hand up over his shoulder to where the man’s voice chuckled in his ear. He touched, tentatively at first, a smooth, angular jaw, just the faintest hint of stubble. He reached further to thread his fingers through long, thick hair, let his fingers curl in it, pull the man’s face where Law could turn to see it.

The man was blurry, too close to see in the near-dark but his face was pale as his hands, his hair red like blood, and his eyes shone unnaturally in the darkness, too sharp, like an animal’s flickering in the moonlight. Something about the man was deeply unnerving. He wasn’t right, couldn’t be if Law was touching him.

A hand at law’s hip squeezed and pulled him tighter against the broad body behind him. Law’s eyes grew unfocused, glazed over at the proximity, the rise and fall of the man’s chest at his back. He let his head roll to the side and felt a rumble like a growl, like a purr and Law fixed his grip in the man’s hair and drew the pale face closer to his bared neck. He felt the man’s breath hitch at his pulse, felt a crooked nose drag up the length of his throat and a warm puff of breath over his clavicle. 

“You tempt me,” The man groaned, lips brushing over Law’s neck. 

Law tightened his grip in the man’s hair, the gasp escaping his lips sounding suspiciously like a plea. He could feel thin lips curve into a grin at his neck, feel teeth press into his throbbing pulse, and then a hot, wet heat like nothing he’d ever known sinking into his skin, sucking hard and then -

A sharp lance of pain.

Law cried out in surprise as the pain bloomed, as wet warmth dripped down his collar, vision whiting out at the sudden acuity of the bite. His knees buckled but he was held in place by the strong arms around him. Tears sprung to his eyes, stinging as they beaded heavily on his lashes yet he didn’t struggle to break free because even this, painful as it was, still surpassed the ache of being untouched. Now that he knew how good it was to be held he couldn’t leave these arms willingly. If this was the price of an embrace he would pay it willingly. Because pain faded, even now, the sting of it was growing numb, but isolation was persistent, inescapable, unutterably lonesome.

The sharp pain eased into a dull burning that echoed into his skull. His heart beat frantically, veins pulsing at his neck, he could feel his blood gushing between the man’s lips. His head ached as his blood was diverted from his brain, mind growing soft around the edges. He was vaguely aware of the sounds he made, gasping, choking moans that vibrated his tortured neck.

And just as fast as the pain came it was gone, switched off and replaced by a satiating comfort. He felt sluggish, drugged and limp in the man’s arms. The adrenaline had rushed out of him. He realized he was still clutching at the man’s hair, had never once attempted to pull the teeth away, if anything had pressed the man closer as he abused him. Law was all twisted up and he didn’t care, limp and soft and held in the arms of another who’s enchanting voice and strong hands could tempt and taunt him fearlessly. 

The vampire, because that’s what the man must be, sucked and licked at his neck, lathed over the wound with his tongue until the bleeding slowed. Law arched into the contact mindlessly, whimpering as the wet mouth worked him over. Behind him he could feel the vampire’s chest rumble with a contented purr as he kissed and licked at the marred skin until it knit back together into a tender pink patch. Law was electrified, clinging to the tall figure wrapped around him. He felt ready to explode from pain and pleasure and oversensitivity. 

A hot tongue cleaned the blood from his collar bone, up his neck until teeth tugged at Law’s ear. 

“Never had anyone enjoy that part,” the vampire taunted in a rough murmur.

Law was beyond words, beyond feeling shame as he let himself sink into the muscled frame behind him, loosening his grip in the vampire’s hair to stroke through it.

“Yer a special one aren’t ye,” the man hums, one strong arm wrapped around Law’s middle, holding him fast, the other hand coming up to cradle Law’s head. He pressed his lips to the tear tracks on Law’s jaw and up his cheeks to kiss Law’s heavy eyelids. His hand seemed huge to Law, sliding down his face to cup his chin, one finger sliding back and forth over his mouth. Law let his lips part, let the finger slip inside, hook over his bottom teeth with a steady pressure keeping his mouth open as the hand coaxed his head to turn. He could feel the brush of a nose against his, the soft exhale of breath metallic with blood and then a soft wet tongue licking across his lips and into his mouth.

Law’s stomach flipped, nerves winding taught in his chest at his first kiss, deep and claiming. He felt owned in a way that implied he was wanted. A giddy rush of euphoria shot through him, escaping as a whine in the back of his throat as the finger left his mouth replaced by tongue and teeth. Law was helpless under the possessive kiss, relinquished himself to be owned, the taste of his own blood in the other’s mouth a testament to the vampire’s claim. 

His head grew lighter and lighter as his remaining blood rushed to his arousal where he grew needy for touch, for friction. 

The vampire chuckled into their clumsy kissing and slid his hand between the buttons of Law’s coat to slide over his trousers where they were tented. Law groaned and kissed back feverishly, inexpert but eager, sluggish and sloppy. He was trapped and dizzy with desire, rolling his body into every touch.

They parted suddenly leaving Law wavering and unsteady until the vampire turned him to press his back into the wall, pressed along his front to return to greedily feasting on Law’s mouth, letting sharp teeth free to nip at swollen lips for another taste of blood. The sting hurt but eased into pleasure by whatever venom the vampire possessed and Law couldn’t complain when he was so overwhelmed with sensation. 

Law panted a plea, supplicant, begging indistinctly.

“What do ye need, love,” the vampire breathed back between tugging at Law’s lips with his own.

Law groaned, helpless for an answer, knowing only that he needed more, body keyed up and desperate.

“Need me to touch ye?” The vampire murmured into the corner of Law’s mouth.

Law nodded helplessly.

“Need me to hurt ye?”

Law shuddered, turning his head to take the vampires lips in another needy kiss, rolling his body, hips stuttering for friction.

“C’mon, love,” The vampire tugged at his hips while thrusting forward, the friction rippling up Law’s insides. “Go on, I’ve got ye,” the vampire bit, rutting forward in sharp thrusts that coaxed gasping moans from Law’s lips. He let a pale hand slide between them to tug at Law’s buttons and slip under fabric until the huge hand was hot against Law’s abdomen. 

Law panted for breath, stars dancing in his vision as he felt a calloused hand wrap around his aching length, fingers curling to squeeze him just right, a thumb rubbing over his head where he leaked wet and sticky. His mind grew hazy and soft, vision darkening in the corners with every stroke until pleasure bloomed, bursting from him like a dam breaking, flooding over in ecstasy so white hot he couldn’t see. He could hear his own voice, a lewd cry in the distance. As the rolling waves of pleasure crested one after the other his mind grew cottony and his vision faded to black.


	2. The Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Law’s shitty childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much all depressing backstory.
> 
> Warnings (spoilers)  
> a seriously depressing childhood, self harm, child neglect/abandonment, non graphic death of parents and non graphic death of an animal.
> 
> Sorry this is depressing as hell. Sexy fun times in the next chapter!! Hopefully coming soon hahahahahahaha sorry

Law was twelve when he drew his own blood.

With clumsy fingers he cut into the back of his hand, the dull blade parting skin messily. It didn’t bleed as much as he expected, so he cut deeper, fumbling the blade to slice the letters “DEATH” into each finger so he’d never forget what he’d done.

.x.

Law was ten when he last saw his parents. He had grown up comfortably in a loving home until it all was taken away. That day they were visiting a strange neighborhood, Law was too young to remember why. All he remembered was bumping into his mother’s legs when she stopped, frantic voices, pleading, “take whatever you want.”

His father had fallen and his mother had pushed him back and yelled for him to run before she, too, fell. Being the good child that he was, he did as his mother asked and ran. It probably saved his life and he would regret that he hadn’t died with his parents in years to come. 

Nobody came looking for him. There was no one left to care. In these dingy streets he was just another mutt, a parasite. 

Law was ten when he first ate from the trash. When he vomited an hour later there was no one there to rub his back or brush away his hair.

For days he continued beggin and searching through trash for food, hungry and alone, until he found the box. The puppy inside was tiny and pale pink, small enough to fit in his own small hands. In his hungry haze he pondered how he would eat it. He studied the little form in the box wondering if it was worth trying to eat or if he should leave it to die. He wasn’t thinking when he reached for it, felt the warm peach fuzz under he hand, the steady rise and fall of it’s frail little body. When he picked it up and held it in his arms the little thing whined and nestled into his chest. Law cried for the first time since losing his parents. It came out in wracking sobs, the struggle, the grief, the confusion, tumbled out of him in a brittle wail as he clutched the puppy close.

He’d nearly forgotten that he’d had a life before this. He’d had loving parents, a cozy home, they’d once promised him a puppy after he begged and begged. He no longer had his parents but he could have this, he could have this tiny creature, and the tiny pup would remind him of his humanity, would keep him on the right path. 

He named the little pup Bepo and for two years they struggled to survive as outcasts together. It was a horrible life but together they had purpose, they had someone to care for, someone warm to hold at night, they were family. It was horrible, but in the years to come Law often thought that it would have been better to stay as strays together instead of what was to come.

.x.

Law was twelve when he was found. He’d woken up in their makeshift alleyway shelter to Bepo growling and a tall figure looming over them. The pink feathered coat made the man seem broader than he was, and backlit by the streetlamps his silhouette was almost angelic. Law had placed a quieting hand on Bepo’s back and listened as the man crouched down to speak with them. They had left the alleyway together in a car that smelled so clean it was disorienting and arrived at a mansion so large it made him queasy.

.x.

Law was twelve when he was adopted. The feathered man, Doflamingo, had given the boy and his now-large dog a room to live in and stiff clothes to wear and food to eat and asked if he’d like to stay. Law, of course, said yes - so long as Bepo could stay with him. Doflamingo had smiled tightly and said he would make arrangements. When the paperwork went through Doflamingo spread his gloved hands magnanimously and kept his distance. Law thought he might finally be able to relax now that he had a real home, and crouched down to explain to Bepo, petting his soft furry face. Bepo had whined and Law had continued petting him soothingly, petting him and petting him. It’s a memory that aches to remember, worse even than the death of his parents. Petting Bepo until his body folded to the floor to lie still on the ground. He was too confused to cry, looked up at Doflamingo only to see a dark, disappointed look on the man’s face. 

Doflamingo had turned to another man, an attendant or butler of some sort and said “get rid of them, don’t let the mutt touch you.”

.x.

Law was twelve when he was cursed. Upon inheriting Doflamingo’s curse he was promptly disowned, but the curse remained. Doflamingo’s brother, Corazon, had come to Law’s aid, carefully taking in the cursed child. He explained that Doflamingo had angered a coven of witches who had cursed him and his progeny with the touch of death. Doflamingo had hoped to find a loophole by adopting, but clearly it was ineffective. Law had to learn to live with his affliction despite what he’d done to his dear Bepo. His hands were cursed and he’d killed his only family.

When Cora walked in on Law, saw the blood, the blade in his mangled hands, he cried. Cora had cradled Law’s bloody hands, a towel between them, and had carefully sewn the skin back together in messy stitches. He gave Law a pair of thin, delicate leather gloves and tried his best to provide a loving home for the broken child. They lived peacefully for several years until one day an angry Doflamingo had stormed into their home, slipped off his gloves and cupped Cora’s face in a bare hand, shaking his head. Law saw the disdainful look on Doflamingo’s face, watched Corazon crumple to the floor, and felt the Earth fall out from beneath his feet.

.x.

Law was sixteen when he swore himself to solitude. Having lost everyone he’d ever loved he committed himself to isolation. He had the scars on his fingers tattooed over, spelling “DEATH” clearly for all to see and he buried himself in his studies. HE wore gloves constantly and studied to become a doctor, to save lives in recompense for the lives he’d taken. He would be a doctor, he would save lives, and he would remain alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy fun times in the next chapter!!! Sorry for all the sad! Comments help motivate me and will hopefully push me to update faster ahaha.... aaahhh, uh concrit is welcome, all comments are welcome unless you’re a big meanie head in which case, don’t?

**Author's Note:**

> don’t take all the dark and sad stuff too heavily, i set it up because i loved the idea of touch-starved!cursed!Law meeting sexy vampire Kidd. That’s it that’s the plot. I hope you all enjoyed! Haha sorrynotsorry
> 
> Not sure when I’ll be updating my other fics, I’m sorry but I’m trying to keep my real life priorities straight so I can’t make any promises regarding updates right now.
> 
> I thrive on comments, even the smallest drop. It helps motivate me to write more. I’m like a comment vampire. Feeeed me.  
> (I’m also open to concrit. Is my writing too verbose? I tend to have pretty long exposition and description. Is the POV switching confusing or is it easy to follow? Let me know!)


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